The Pride of Howard County

  Chapter 2

  Winter was turning into spring, it had been a few months since Grace departed this world and Gus was gearing up for the spring planting. Howard County seemed to be waking from her long winters sleep. Gus was feeling like he was going to make it but there was a time when he wasn’t so sure.

  Birds began to serenade their tunes to the sun as she peeked over the horizon in the morning and Grace’s flower gardens were bursting forth with life. Gus still missed her terribly and sometimes when he began to feel too sorry for himself he reminded himself of the promise that he had made and that he’d be okay.

  The farmer had been busy servicing the tractors, buying seed and fertilizer. The cows were birthing calves and these calves would need vaccinations and ear tags. He took the herd hay every few days as it was too early for them to graze out in the fields. One afternoon he went out and painted the little white picket fence and it made him sad. In a moment of anger he thought of tearing it down but sanity returned. And then there was Lucky.

  Just a few months before Grace got sick she showed up on the porch, some kind of Collie/Sheppard mix, half starved and looking rather ragged. The old man intended to run the dog off before his wife saw her but wasn’t quick enough. Of course, she warmed some milk and immediately began to nurse the young dog back to health. The farmer’s wife gave her some leftovers she found in the fridge until she could make a trip to town to buy some Ol Roy dog food at the Wal-Mart. Lucky preferred the leftovers to the dog food but was grateful for anything she could get. She had been abandoned by her previous owner and the frightened and confused young dog had wandered for a few days in the wilderness. The woman in the big white house had been her savior. And so, the dog was deeply indebted to the lady of the house but thought the old man was a little grumpy and stayed out of his way. But time changed things and Gus, to his amazement, took to this dog and it wasn’t long before they had formed a friendship. She shadowed the farmer all over the farm. She took to riding in the truck like a fish to water and delighted in the smells that came to her nose as they drove about Howard County. As a newcomer, Lucky was on her best behavior, following the rules of the farm. She thought about how fun it would be to chase those big dumb cows, but her instincts whispered that she had better not and it’s a good thing because as far as farmers are concerned a dog that chases cows is as good as dead.

  She just couldn’t help herself and chased one of the chickens and what great fun it was. She didn’t actually mean to kill it but somehow the clucky thing ended up dead. That grumpy old farmer tied the dead bird around her neck and after dragging the stinking thing around with her for nearly a week she was so humiliated she never messed with the chickens again. In fact, she decided that she would become their protector and many times had saved the silly birds from the coyotes and foxes that came in the night. Hence the intense rivalry she now had with the coyotes on the farm. Lucky hated those coyotes and bravely fought with them.

  The farmer and the dog trained each other and could now pridefully perform a few tricks for anyone who happened to stop by the farm.

  Gus could not imagine a dog in the house but one stormy night his heart softened and he agreed with Grace that perhaps they should let her inside, just this once. She slept on a blanket under the kitchen table from that day forward. It was under the table her chances were best that a kind hearted farmer or his wife might slip her a treat. It was the woman who had named her Lucky and now it was the man who felt fortunate to have a dog like her. She was a lot of company for a lonely farmer who had just lost his wife. The farmer found himself laughing out loud as he watched his dog go airborne chasing grasshoppers. He watched her as she stalked the groundhog that lived under the barn. Gus had thought about shooting the rodent but since Lucky now spent several hours a day trying to figure out a way to ambush the creature he figured that might entertain her and keep her out of trouble.

  Lucky went outside each night at bedtime to go potty and would sometimes go to war with the coyotes. The farmer would hear all the commotion and damn near tear the door off its hinges getting out there to rescue his dog. Even though she thought she was, Lucky was no match for a pack of coyotes. Once in a while Gus managed to drop one or two of them with his rifle but they usually slipped off into the night leaving the chicken protector battered and bruised. The farmer would take her inside to inspect her and several times had to call the vet in the middle of the night to come out and stitch her up. A few stitches and an antibiotic shot and she was good as new and in a few days was back to warring with the groundhog. Gus hadn’t yet figured out if she was extremely courageous or a little simple minded but backing down from a fight was not in her D.N.A. The tough old farmer admired this feature. “She’s got spunk,” he’d say.

  On Some Saturday morning’s Gus and Lucky would make a trip to town. She waited in the truck while the man would get his hair cut. It was in the barber’s chair he heard opinions about everything from world politics to whether the high school football team would be any good that year. The barber inherited the shop from his father and between the two of them had been giving haircuts nearly sixty years. Gus considered his barber a bit windy and sometimes got a little annoyed with all the chatter. A couple of times he came close to telling him to shut the hell up and just cut his damn hair.

  Once, after getting his haircut he went to the senior citizens center for lunch. He thought the food was okay but felt awkward there. He felt like he was being sized up by the old widows. His wife had been the best there was and no one could ever compare. The old farmer knew he would never love another woman.

  Sometimes he went to church on Sunday mornings. He has never had any kind of religious experience in church but was brought up in the church and was usually glad he went afterwards. As a child he would sit between his parents on the old wooden pews at the small country church and pay more attention to the wasps that flew in and out the screenless windows rather than what the preacher was saying. In the winter it was always best to sit near the back of the church closest to the wood stove.

  But Grace loved her church and her husband always believed she had enough religion for the both of them. Everyone at the First Methodist Church tried to make him feel welcome but he felt like sometimes they went a little overboard. He was grateful just the same even though he felt like a puzzle with a piece missing.

  Some Sunday evening’s the man and his dog would spend a little time on the porch. It was in those quiet moments the farmer found himself thinking about his beloved wife the most. The darkness of losing her had lifted and he is once again sort of himself. He would be forever changed, slightly damaged, perhaps a scar on his heart.

  The dog always begged until she got a shot or two of Gus’s beer, she loved beer even though the bubbles tickled her nose.